


Life Or Death

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has insomnia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Or Death

Disclaimers: UPN and Pet Fly Productions own all rights to "The Sentinel" and characters. No copyright infringement is intended. No money has or will be made from this silly little thing that kept me up way past my bedtime. Thank God for hungry kittens that never let me sleep past my alarm!

Summary: Blair has insomnia.

Notes: This story is for Karin. I challenged her to write a story about nightmares, and although I haven't seen her story yet, I thought I would return the favor.

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**"Life Or Death"**

By 

Carolyn

Blair Sandburg was tired. Physically, he was tired after failing to get more than two hours of sleep a night for five days now. Mentally, he was tired from having to manage teaching, taking classes and working with Jim over those same five days. Emotionally, he was exhausted from fighting the nightmares that had been plaguing him all these past nights.

One lousy comment about serial killers from a colleague at the university during a faculty meeting from which Blair could not leave early, and the ensuing discussion that comment provoked, had brought back his ordeal with David Lash with startling clarity. The dead man now haunted his dreams. Blair had begun to mention the problem to Jim several times, only to stop for fear of reproval from the older man, or to be interrupted when he finally got the nerve to broach the subject.

After a stakeout during which Blair had fallen dead asleep in the truck, Jim had zoned, and the perp had gotten away, things came to an ugly head.

Slamming the door forcefully behind him, Jim stalked into the loft like the panther that was his spirit guide.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, falling asleep when I was doing such a focused sweep with my hearing?"

"I'm sorry Jim."

"It was your idea in the first place, Darwin. Now not only has Deveraux gotten away, I have to explain to Simon how this happened!"

"I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me how tired you were? I could have asked Simon along. He's just as anxious to catch this guy as I am."

"I *said* I was sorry, Jim."

"Sorry doesn't cut it anymore. What the hell is wrong with you lately, Sandburg?"

"I've been having nightmares and losing some sleep."

"I know. I hear everything that goes on in this apartment, remember?" he spat at his roommate, not vaguely mollified. He had noticed Blair's reticence to talk about whatever was bothering him, but had decided to wait until the younger man was more comfortable before insisting they talk. Now, he wished he *had* insisted.

"They're about Lash," Blair said quietly, a world of pain in his words.

"Lash?" Jim's voice was softer. He knew how hard Blair had tried to get past the devastating events of that night, and how embarrassed he must be to have this back up on him again.

"Yeah."

"Shit." Ah, the eloquence of James Ellison at his rhetorical best. Blair was less than impressed.

"Yeah, 'shit.' And there's nothing I can do about them."

Jim decided to take the Sandburg approach to things. While he would have simply put it out of his head, Blair seemed to need some sort of outside assistance to "process" trauma. Okay, he could go that route.

"What have you tried?"

"Everything, man. I've tried meditation, I've tried relaxation tapes, I ran 5 miles before bed last night. I've read every stuffy old text that I own *and* all the bad poetry I wrote after Maya dumped me."

"Whoa, you wrote poetry?"

"Yeah. You got something to say about it?"

"Nope, nothing," he said, a smirk escaping his carefully neutral expression.

"Hell, Jim, I even tried sleeping pills and you *know* how I hate taking stuff like that! The bottom line is, nothing is working." A whine had begun to creep into Blair's voice. "I can't go on like this."

"Did this ever happen before?"

"Just once," Blair said softly, the floor becoming very interesting to him all of a sudden.

"When?"

"Never mind."

"No way, Chief. Spill it."

"It happened after I nearly died while on an expedition in Brazil. We were crossing a rope bridge over a thousand foot drop into a gorge. I slipped and almost didn't catch the rope in time. I was awake for four days straight back then. I couldn't stop dreaming about falling into the gorge and splatting on the rocks."

"Shit. What did you do?"

Blair blushed -- *blushed* -- and mumbled something even Jim couldn't decipher.

"What was that?"

"I said it wouldn't work."

"What wouldn't work?"

"Nothing."

"You said something -- out with it, Chief."

Blair resorted to mumbling again. Jim considered his options, and went for the easy kill.

"Sandburg, this is not just your health we are talking about here \-- which is damned important to me, by the way -- this is *my* safety too. You could have gotten us killed tonight, falling asleep like that. What if Deveraux had walked by the car? Two shots and no more worrying about zone outs. We would have *both* been in the big zoneout land in the sky, partner."

Guilt trips worked like threats never did.

Blair let out a frustrated sigh, and relented, but still mumbled his reply.

"I'm warning you Blair. Out with it."

"I said I fucked myself silly! There, you happy?" Blair continued to stare at the carpet while Jim considered what he had just heard. After a moment, the sentinel spoke.

"Blair, you need to get some sleep."

"Well, duh!" Jim's eloquence had nothing on Blair's at times like this.

"And I need you to be 100% in order to back me up on tomorrow night's stakeout, right?"

Blair abandoned words and simply grunted at his apparently thick-skulled partner.

"You're not seeing anyone right now, are you?"

Okay, he could play along with this game. Hey, when did Jim get so close?

"No, I'm. . . um, I'm not seeing anyone right now."

"And you probably don't have any ex's who would be willing?"

"No, I don't think. . . Jim, why are you unbuttoning my shirt?"

"The way I see it, Blair, is your life and mine is at stake here, wouldn't you agree?"

Words were slow in coming to the anthropologist as his partner latched his mouth onto Blair's neck and started kissing and sucking at the flesh along his nape, trailing licks and bites towards his chest.

"Oh! Um, oh yeah, life or death, man."

"Does it make a difference {lick} if you fuck {lick} or *get* fucked?" Jim latched his greedy mouth onto one of Blair's nipples and sucked hard.

/Holy mother of all goddesses!/

"Chief?"

"Ungh?" He hoped the sound he made was audible. He didn't think he had breathed once since Jim's hand found its way inside the button of his jeans. That hot mouth of his had laved one nipple to a rock hard peak and was working diligently to issue the same fate to its twin.

"You didn't {nip} answer my {lick} question." Jim moved up to take Blair's mouth in a bruising kiss.

"Mmmmmmmm."

Jim's busy hands removed Blair's jeans and boxers and somewhere in the process of kissing the younger man insensible, had removed his own clothes as well.

"What question?" Jim leaned away from Blair's seeking lips and looked into passion-darkened blue eyes. He cupped his partner's face.

"Do you think you could get some sleep if I fucked you silly?"

Blair took a shuddering breath and spoke his last coherent sentence of the night.

"It's life or death here, man. We really ought to try, huh?"

"Mmmm, I think so."

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{Three hours later}

"Blair? Babe?"

"Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

The end ;-)


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